“You put the boys in jail? Isn’t that a bit harsh? If I’d known they were going to throw rocks, I would have dealt with the situation better. I’d have dismounted and had words with them.”
(I was also thinking that I’d use a light spell on them. If a witch thinks of benefitting someone instead of punishing them, the spell doesn’t have any backlash. I could have found a way to correct the nastiness of the two in a manner that didn’t involve jail.)
Officer Krugel was shaking his head. His finger rose into the air in a kind of scolding manner, but I don’t think he was even aware of that. I only noticed, actually, because Frey gave another warning snort. I reached out a hand and soothed him.
“I’m glad you didn’t attempt that,” the man said, shifting his stance as if he was tired of standing in the middle of the dusty yard with the sun boring down on us. “Something tells me these boys are headed for the kind of trouble that their parents can’t bail them out of. When cruelty crawls its way inside a person . . .”
“. . .it’s usually too late to stop its malignancy.” I said, finishing the quote. “Old Mother used to say that. She got very upset with certain people in the village. I think she believed there was a lot of malice in the hearts of many.”
The officer smiled, apparently liking the fact that I knew that quote. He stretched his right foot up onto the lowest board of the corral’s fence. The posture didn’t look all that comfortable to me, but, perhaps, he needed the movement.
“And you, Shama? Did you find the place you lived malignant? Were some of those people mean to you?”
He was probing again, but I wasn’t going to fall under his need to investigate my past. He’d either accept me as I was or send me packing. Except for the boys I could care less which way that went.
Okay, I knew I was lying to myself. It would kill me inside to have to leave now. Responding to the moment’s annoyance, Frey took a step sideways to lean into me. His low-pitched nicker was a tone of reassurance. I turned and flung my arms around his neck. This was a position we’d often shared. He was familiar with my sobs and the wetness that often sank down into his coat.